


Drunken Doctor

by Trashfire



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, Jealousy, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 05:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12810618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashfire/pseuds/Trashfire
Summary: Drabble with the Seventh Doctor contemplating the TARDIS, life, booze, women, and his past.  Four makes an appearence.  The TARDIS has some human qualities.  Slight Seven/Ace, Seven/Mel (oh God DX) and Four/Sarah Jane.





	Drunken Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 2010 so uh enjoy?

He leaned heavily onto the console of the TARDIS. He could feel her laughter. Or was it his own? The little man was slightly off kilter but that could be the TARDIS playing with him, or the eighth glass of...what was it again? That big bottle Ace had given him the day before. Something about his....birthday?

He'd never told her when his birthday was. Oh, wait, that's why she'd given it to him. She didn't know when his birthday was, and the bottle had been for his birthday.

Too bad it was a few months (in relative time?) ago. Too bad he hadn't told her. They could have shared the bottle of amber liquid. Oh, wait, she wasn't here. Chasing some young boy no doubt. Some lucky boy was going to have quite a night with Ace.

Why'd he think that? He shook his head, trying to clear it. Lucky? Why was the boy lucky, he questioned himself. The answer came from nowhere, it was like another voice in his head: "He's going to have a tumble. With Ace." Oh God, why did his mind add that last part? Ace was, well, a little girl.

That's why he was here, getting arseholed by himself as his young companion found warm arms to hold her. Well, so did he. He had started to feel quite warm about an hour ago, and now he was beginning to feel pleasantly numb. Where did his glass get to?

More importantly, where were his pants? He spotted two pairs of them on the floor. Funny, he didn't remember wearing two pairs of pants that day. Must be a trick of the light. Or the TARDIS, who was still gently laughing in the back of his foggy mind.

"Would you stop that? I can barley think with all that r-r-r-racket!" he said to the console. When had he put his face on the cool metal? Leave it to Her to comfort him.

!i!i!i!i!i

A much larger version of him ran into the TARDIS, his scarf nearly catching in the door in his haste to slam it. He whipped his hat from his head and striped off that infernal jacket. He really hated the thing, but it added to his air of mystique, and made a handy blanket at times. Not to mention the large pockets could hold a huge array of...well, stuff. With just his once-white button down and pants he slammed his hand onto the controls of the TARDIS.

"Just get me away from here!" He pleaded with her, his voice more full of emotion than it had ever been. He felt as though he was choking on the tight ball that now sat in his neck. He thought it could have been his heart. How poetic, he thought, I would have guessed a lump jellie babys. The TARDIS, as usual, careened out of his control, and, for once, he didn't fight to keep it on course. He collapsed into a large heap onto the floor and felt the world swell up in his electric blue eyes.

That was it, the world. Chasing the bad guys, saving the good, keeping up that supply of jellie babys and snarky wit. It was tiring. He was sick of it. He had gone back, back to her, the only one who could shove the world off his shoulders. Even if she did have exceptionally weak ankles. It was his Sarah Jane he wanted by his side.

"Such a good girl," he spoke aloud, "my wonderfully good girl," he moaned.

She had shoved him away, eyes aflame. She would never forgive him. She understood him. How undeserving he was of her. She was right. He should never have left her, never have gone on without her. She was his safety net. She could always share a smile.

And now, how she hated him. He could see that the hurt he had caused had turned into hatred over time. He saw it plainly spread across her lovely face: "you only care when it affects you. Well, I do to. You need me? Well, I learned to live without you!"

The crumpled mass on the floor hugged itself tighter as the tears actually made their escape. Softly, he heard a humm. Oh, right, she was here. The TARDIS had landed gently, somewhere safe, he knew. The hum contenued as he stood, forcing the pain down, swallowing that knot of self-loathing, and looked at the display. The moon of Ansari I? This was new. He opened the door to the TARDIS and was hit in the face with the aroma of lilac, but slightly sweeter, maybe with a touch of honeyed tea. How he loved the smell. It was the smell of his Sarah Jane.

!i!i!i!i!i

The Doctor smiled a bit at the memory. He had gone and visited again, a few days for him, a few months for her. They had made up. The had made up quite nicely, he thought. He frowned as the memory blurred and was replaced by a slighter newer one, one where Ace had turned and smiled at him. That smile made his heart leap into his chest as only Sarah Jane could have done. Was he becoming more sober? No, that couldn't be it, because the once amber filled bottle now ad nothing of the sort in it. It was full a minute ago. He must have fallen all the way into the bag. Wasn't hard for a man his stature. But, his thoughts took over again, what was hard was trying to fend off a crazy brainwashed Mel...

!i!i!i!i!i

"Oh, Doctor?" came a call from a door that had been left ever so slightly ajar. He grumbled something as he opened it. Only to stop short and immediately turn his head.  
"My dear Lord, Meline, per-r-rhaps you should dr-r-ress before inviting me into your-r-r r-r-r-room?" he couldn't help but roll those infernal Rs when he was this out of sorts. What he had glimpsed was enough to make him know that there was something seriously wrong. The computer expert was sprawled lavishly across her bed. That wasn't the problem here, his mind had quickly figured it out. It was that she was nude. 

"But Doctor, I want you to see me like this," he could hear her moving on the bed, no, she was moving off the bed. He suddenly became very frightened at this sudden change in Mel, and stepped out of the room and tried to hold the door shut. She was stronger than she appeared, for he was having a hard time. The door was slowly but surely inching open, and soon Mel was able to squeeze a hand through the crack and stroke the Doctor's face. He yelped and sprung back form the door as if it were on fire. Mel's hand was ice cold.

On a closer inspection, not going below the neckline, the Doctor noticed that her eyes were closed. Was she sleeping? Unlikely. He pushed that thought away as she unsteadily walked towards him. She once again stroked his face gently.

"What's the matter Doctor? You don't like my appearance? Maybe I should have picked a better body?" Suddenly it clicked in the Doctor's muddled mind. The Rani was using a telepathic link she had set onto Mel. That had to be it. Ignoring the feeling of soft, smooth skin, he pushed Mel-Rani back into the room and yelled to the TARDIS to lock it. For once the damned thing complied and the Doctor wiped his brow as he set about removing the mind-link.

!i!i!i!i!i

He was grateful that he had the TARDIS. More so than he let on, he hid his affection with a few well placed kicks to the walls and smacking the controls once in a while, but the timelord truly did love Her. His mind was less fuzzy now.

He sighed. It never did last long, the numbness, the warmth. His mind wondered back to Ace, this time worrying about her safety and not her sexual exploits. Well, sod it all, tell yourself not to think about it, and what happens? You think about it. He wanted to drink himself into oblivion. He remembered that much. He wanted that bottle to himself. Give a bit to Ace, a lot to him and he wouldn't have this little problem, he would have a huge problem. 

Give the bottle to himself, and he would forget the little problem. He could pretend for a moment that he was a man. A normal man. Sitting...laying? Maybe he was more dunk than he thought he was. Well, a normal man laying in a...a TARDIS. Thinking about women.

One women. He didn't want to remember her name. He didn't want to remember she existed at the moment. Shame washed through him as he lay on the floor. Great, a bit of self pity before I pass out, he thought to himself. 

His thoughts turned to her anyway. He watched her grow up. This was wrong. He watched her as she ran through eighteen like she was on fire. This was wrong. He had watched her as she waltzed around nineteen like she hadn't a care. This was wrong. He had watched her turn into a woman. She said it herself that day. She's not a little girl anymore. Sure she still liked to blow things up, she always would. She would always see him as an overbearing old man with a scottish lilt and a horridly ugly jumper (which was just a blur of colors at the time, seeing as he had stumbled into the store room, he didn't remember it being that far from the control room.) That wouldn't change. The was she saw the universe. That would change. The way he saw her. That already changed. 

He took a swig from some bottle filled with clear liquid he had picked up somewhere on Earth. It burned deliciously as it went down. Funny, he thought, I don't remember ever enjoying this feeling. All his previous incarnations had chosen to stay clear of the beverage. But, it's not like I can go anywhere. I don't want to leave my Ace.

His Ace? How long had he been calling her that? Months? Years? Wait, how long had he known her? It felt like forever right now. Then again, the storeroom felt like forever right now. Same with the lou. 

He should be done with this, he thought. This isn't right, all this self pity. No doubt brought on by all the booze sleeping in his stomach. He looked down. Right, that horrid jumper. Why did he wear that thing again? Oh, yes, it made him seem like he was more there. Did that make sense he thought. After a minuet of consideration, he decided it was. Or, rather, did. He was more there in that jumper. People paid attention to him. They looked at him. Ace looked at him.

Again with Ace? He stumbled back to the control room. He swore it was trying to run from him. But he managed to capture it. He tripped over the little rise that he didn't notice ever being there before. All of a sudden he had a great view of the floor.

Funny. He didn't remember those shoes being there when he left. Those legs either.

"Professor?" Ace's voice seemed a little strained. He looked up at her. She was so very tall.

"Ace," he said slowly, "how ever did you manage to get so tall? You r-r-really must tell me your secr-r-ret," he stopped and thought for a moment, swimming through the swirl of mist in his heavy head, "Let's make a deal," he said as she tried to pick him up off the floor, "You tell me your secr-r-ret, and," he winked, or at least thought he did, "I'll tell you mine."

"I'll tell you in the morning Professor," was all she could manage before bursting into laughter as the Doctor fell asleep under the TARDIS's controls.


End file.
